All The Summers After | TSITP | Sequel

The Way It's Meant To Be.

————

Taylor stood in the middle of the room, eyes blazing with competitive fire.

"Okay," she announced, "I'm acting for my team. And we're winning."

"You said that last time," Steven said.

"And we WOULD HAVE," she replied, "if you didn't 'spider-man' for LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE CLUE."

He shrugged. "Statistically, it will eventually be Spider-Man."

Lydia lay across Conrad's lap while he absently played with a strand of her hair. "This is better than the movies," she whispered.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "This is better than anything."

Taylor dramatically mimed swimming. Flailing. Screaming. Some sort of drowning ballet.

"Titanic!" Belly shouted.

Taylor pointed wildly at her. SUCCESS.

Jeremiah leapt up, fist-pumping. "YES! BELLY FOR THE WIN!"

"Why is he more excited than Taylor?" Conrad whispered.

"Because Jeremiah thinks every win is a personal win," Lydia said.

Down on the floor, Adam was laughing so hard he had to wipe tears. Even John cracked a rare, warm smile.

————

Someone — probably Jeremiah — dug out an ancient board game from a dusty cabinet. Half the cards were bent. The dice looked older than all of them combined.

"THIS," Jeremiah announced, "is the ORIGINAL chaos."

Laurel tilted her head. "Is that the Fisher-Price...?"

"NO," he said, "it is the sacred artefact of Fisher childhood. Respect it."

Conrad raised his hand. "I want to make a statement."

"Yes, my son?" John said jokingly.

"That game," Conrad said, pointing at the frayed box, "once made me cry at age twelve because Jere cheated."

"I did not cheat," Jeremiah said. "I'm just better."

"You literally moved your piece five extra squares."

"I WAS COUNTING IN FRENCH," Jeremiah argued loudly.

"You didn't know French at ten!"

Lydia leaned forward, whispering to Denise, "They're going to fight."

Denise shrugged. "Honestly? I'm rooting for it."

Daniel, sitting beside her, laughed into his sleeve.

————

The night didn't slow. It folded softly around them — inside jokes, stories from summers ago, Laurel retelling embarrassing childhood moments, Adam doubling over with dramatic reenactments, Belly taking candid photos of everyone, Taylor climbing into Steven's lap just to steal his turn.

It felt like all the fractures they once had... had healed, maybe not perfectly straight, but stronger.

At one point, Lydia ended up sitting between Conrad's legs, leaning back into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist, absent-minded, the most natural thing in the world. He rested his chin on her shoulder, whispering commentary only she could hear.

Daniel noticed.

And instead of tension, he just smiled into his drink.

Everyone had grown.

The room glowed with it.

————

By midnight, Laurel stretched with a soft groan. "Okay, I am officially out of Christmas cheer," she declared.

Adam patted her shoulder. "You did great, kid."

"I'm older than you," she deadpanned.

Daniel helped Denise up. Belly and Jeremiah were already sleepily curled against each other. Steven carried Taylor bridal-style up the stairs after she 'accidentally' fell asleep on the couch.

John dimmed the lights.

The warmth lingered like the aftertaste of something sweet.

Conrad stood, offering Lydia a hand. "Ready?"

She rose, threading her fingers through his. "Yeah," she whispered. "This... this was perfect."

They shared a small smile, the kind that comes from knowing you're finally home — not because of where you are, but because of who you're with.

And together, they climbed the stairs, back into the soft, familiar dark of the house that had witnessed every version of them.